As dusk fell, two Orc slaves sat in a tavern, drinking from large bowls and airing their grievances. Heavy chains clanked around their wrists and ankles.
More precisely, the young Orc aired his grievances while the gray-haired Orc listened.
The young Orc gulped down a mouthful of rum and cursed, "Damn Grand Duke Kotel! He wants us Orcs to worship some Dream God? Great Orcs would never bow to him or offer him our Faith!"
Orcs had worshipped their gods since childhood: Gruumsh, their Chief God; Bagchu, the god of courage; Yinavu, the god of barbarians; Rusaike, the goddess of fertility; and Shagesi, the god of shadow dancers.
Every Orc had known these gods from the moment they became self-aware. When they reached adulthood, they chose one as the focus of their worship.
So how could he offer his Faith to some Dream God?
"But Grand Duke Kotel said we wouldn't have to wear shackles anymore if we worshipped the Dream God," the gray-haired Orc said quietly. "And every Orc who goes to pray gets a year's worth of rations."
The young Orc's towering fury promptly wilted. "Even so," he stammered, "he can't humiliate us Orcs like this."
"He also said we'd get enough rum to drink for a whole year."
The young Orc shut his mouth.
Orcs would never be slaves. Food and drink, though, were another matter.
After drinking his fill, the young Orc staggered home drunk.
His home was a tiny, single-room house. Once the bed was in place, there was not even enough space left to cook.
He lay down on the bed and fell asleep, snoring.
Gradually, he found himself in a strange place.
Endless darkness surrounded him. There were no stars overhead and no ground beneath his feet. It was like the Outer Void.